Research - How Dangerous Can It Be?
by Biensche
Summary: The research for a hunt sometimes is more dangerous than the hunt itself. Hurt/Sam, Protective/Dean; set Season 1


Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural".

A/N: Unbeta'ed. So all mistakes are mine.

Summary: The research for a hunt sometimes is more dangerous than the hunt itself. Hurt/Sam, Protective/Dean; set in Season 1

I hope you enjoy.

* * *

 **Research - How Dangerous Can It Be?**

The sun had set hours ago but the black classic car still rode the back streets of the state of Colorado. The trees next to the street cuddled closely into dense forest which was thick with underbrush. In the silvery moonlight everything appeared eerie.

"No surprise people come up with stories of goblins. I could swear I just saw one running across the street." The driver in the car, Dean Winchester commented.

"If you're seeing them you're either asleep or we should stop and put 'em to rest." His passenger and younger brother, Sam replied.

"I'll take the bed."

"Then find a motel."

"What do you think I'm doing?" Dean asked annoyed.

"Driving aimlessly."

"Did you see a motel in the last two hours?"

"No. Didn't see anything but trees."

"Oh what a surprise there. Mr.-find-me-a-motel didn't see anything either. So shuddup!" No bad feelings were involved in Dean's words, he simply was tired and longing for a bed. He did not even care if it was soft or hard or smelled. Just a bed to sleep. Was that really too much to ask for? He was on the verge of simply stopping the car and sleeping right there and then.

"According to the map it's just five more miles to the next town."

"Then I hope your map is right. And that _you_ are able to read it!" Dean knew for sure his brother was more than capable of reading maps. And if Sam said five miles, it was five miles. Dean needed an outlet for his steam. And thankfully, Sam knew both and did not comment on either.

Finally the town came into view and with it a sign for a motel.

"Town?" Dean asked while taking a look around him, "Looks like Hicksville to me. Probably more rats than people around here."

"Moonlight Motel?" Sam stared at the sign in front of him which was illuminated by the car's headlights.

"Seriously?" Dean said incredulously but stopped his car nevertheless.

Sam just huffed and opened his door. "I'll get us a room."

A few minutes later they both finally were in their room sprawled in their designated beds.

* * *

Dean woke to a pleasant lit room. The morning sun streamed into the room through half shut blinds. Relishing the sweetness of the moment – not that he would ever admit that he did – he yawned and stretched before he turned his body around to face the other bed.

Where Sam slept.

Which was empty.

The older Winchester's mind still was sleepy to register immediately. Then it slowly trickled.

Sam was not in the bed next to his.

As quick as he could manage Dean sat up on the edge of his bed, sheets and covers tangled around his legs, and took in the room. "Sam? Sammy?" His gaze fell on the open bathroom door. He got up, annoyed with the bedclothes around his legs he shook them until they eventually dropped onto the floor, and he walked over and peered inside. He peered inside even though he was certain Sam was not inside. And he was not.

That's when he realized Sam's bed was made. But Sam had gone to sleep last night. Dean had seen him lying on the bed. His gaze feel on the floor between the beds. Only his boots stood there and the covers lay around he had dropped carelessly. Dean picked them up but knew what he would find. Nothing. Sam's sneakers were gone. So were his clothes and his jacket.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered, sprinted for the motel door and yanked it open. The sunlight blinded him momentarily. But even so he saw his car standing in front of him. He looked up and down the street but no sign of his little brother.

"Sam?" He called. He slammed the door and pulled on his own clothes. That's when he saw a piece of paper on the night stand.

 _Maybe I found a job. Gone to town house. I'll get breakfast._

Job? Town house? This hole had a town house? And when had Sam found out about all that?

Sam did not wake up screaming all the time anymore as he had been during the first few weeks. Dean first had thought Sam had gotten better. And Sam had. In hiding his nightmares and sleepless nights. Dean had found out about it a little while back and watched Sam closely but he seemed as okay as he could be with it. Dean tried to be the best big brother he could be by making Sam eat, go to bed, and he was there whenever Sam needed him. He just hoped that was good enough.

Dean flopped down in a chair at the laptop that sat on the table by the window and opened it. He clicked the last page Sam had read and about the supposed job Sam was researching in the town house. Some people had vanished in the woods around without a trace. So far Dean was not very impressed. What had Sam intrigued to keep looking? Maybe Sam could explain that to him.

His stomach grumbled with hunger and he hoped Sam would come back soon. With breakfast. Breakfast burritos, eggs, pancakes, bacon, coffee – all that sounded very appealing. And hopefully that was what Sam would bring. His mouth already watered only thinking about it.

Dean got up and settled back on to the bed. Grabbing the remote control he turned on the TV and watched cartoons. What was better than Bugs Bunny in the morning to have a good mood for the rest of the day? Well, breakfast _and_ cartoons.

But it couldn't be too long until Sam got back. Even if he went to research. His younger brother tended to forget time when looking for things but probably not in a town as small as this and when he had promised to bring breakfast.

* * *

Sam had woken in the middle of the night. He shivered, his body was covered sweat, his shirt stuck to his torso. He stared at the ceiling which was looking completely normal above him. No licking flames, no love of his life pinned to it bleeding, dying while staring down at him begging him to save her which quickly changed into punishing, angry, furious looks that screamed down at him, "You did this to me and you knew it all before!" Sam sat up, needing to look somewhere else in the dark room but the ceiling. He concentrated on his breathing to stop himself from hyperventilating and to get his racing heart back to a more normal rhythm.

The troubled man looked at the other bed. His brother looked so much younger in sleep when the hard edges he pulled up around him while awake were down. He was glad he had his brother around him, with him during this time. He would be at a complete loss at what to do. He probably would forget to eat or breathe without Dean.

And without his brother, he never would have made out of the fire.

 _Don't! Don't go there, Sam!_

Sam got up quickly. He needed to get dry clothes. He needed to get away from these depressing thoughts.

After he splashed some cold water into his face he felt much better. He changed into dry clothes and got back into the main room where Dean still slept on soundly. Sam smiled a shy smile.

It was still dark outside and way too early to go out to get breakfast anywhere. Maybe he could find them a job. He sat down at the table and booted his laptop clicking through the websites.

The sun slowly rose when he came upon an article about people vanishing in the adjoining areas. Perhaps something to look into. Decision made he wrote a note for Dean and left the room. He was not sure if this really was their kind of thing and he did not care. He needed air. He needed to do something. He simply needed to take his mind off of the thoughts of Jessica, her death, how his life would never be the same without her, how much he missed her, what had happened with his life at Stanford. He just wanted to be in the here and now. Anything else was too much to bear. It would simply crush him.

Forcing himself to enjoy the sun that peeked through the trees while he walked down the street. The town house was supposed to be some streets to the left.

It was a small nondescript red brick building. He walked up the few steps to the entrance and inside.

A blonde woman who seemed to be about his age sat behind a counter and looked up at him. She had a kind open face. Somehow she reminded him of Jessica. Kind of everything did these days. He tried to push the feelings aside biting his lip so as not to cry while a sad smile settled on his face.

"Hi there. Can I help you?" She asked kindly.

Sam tried to get his bearings and cleared his throat. "Hi, my name's Sam", he introduced himself to her and held up a fake ID. "I'm an ecology student and I'm working on an assignment about the development of forests and how people influence that."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "And how can I help you?"

"I hoped I could take a look into the town's archive to see how it developed over the years." He asked hopefully and put on his best charming looks even if he didn't feel like it at all.

"Oh. Sure. I mean, I don't see why not." His lovely yet sad face with the puppy eyes made her feel warm inside and she blushed. Stammering, she told him the way downstairs to the archives.

Sam smiled his thanks and went for the stairs and began his descent.

A heavy wooden door was to his left and he pushed it open. It was dark and it was cold down here. He flipped on the light which only covered a small part of the room. The rest remained in the dark. He had not expected this place to be this big.

From what he could see this basement room was full with shelves which were stacked with books, papers, files, and boxes. Actually, he did not know what he really was looking for. So he walked the aisles and just flipped through some files or boxes when the outer appearance seemed interesting. But nothing he read had to do with the disappearances he had read about earlier online.

Sam's gaze fell upon a box in the darker aisle which seemed interesting enough and lifted the lid. He snatched some papers from the inside but it was too dim to see. He pulled out his flashlight. Turning it on he let the beam hit the racks ahead of him before he let it settle on the paper in his hand.

Something rustled in the darkness.

Startled, Sam turned around shining the light to where the sound had come from.

Suddenly the rustling came from behind him and Sam swirled around.

It appeared as if the sounds came from all around him but his light did not catch anything.

Whirling around as he tried to find the source of the noises Sam lost his balance and tried to get a hold on one of the shelves. He fell down hard, face down to the concrete floor overturning the shelf with him. Its contents fell with crashing sounds all around him A soft, strangled cry emerged from his throat as the metal shelf landed on top of him and knocked him out.

His flashlight rolled from his lax hand, its light still shedding through the dark part of the room.

Boxes, books, and files lay scattered around him, some papers still hurtled through the air and eventually settled down somewhere on the floor.

* * *

The minutes ticked by and Sam had yet to show. Dean glanced at his watch again. An unsettling feeling grew in his stomach. A chill went down his spine that had the hair on his neck rise.

Sam would laugh at him if he found him like this: Cartoon sounds blaring from the TV while the big awesome brother sat restlessly – almost shaking – on his bed because of his frayed nerves. Sam's laugh would tune out that of Woody Woodpecker.

But Sam could not laugh at him. Sam was not here.

Dean snatched his phone from the nightstand and speed dialed his brother. It rang but Sam did not answer. Instead it went to voicemail. Dean hung up and redialed. Again just the ring tone and then voicemail.

"Sam? Where the hell are you? I'm waiting for my breakfast. Hurry up." Dean snapped. He had gotten up from the bed and was already halfway to the door.

It only took him mere minutes to get into the car, race in breakneck speed to the town hall and spurt inside.

* * *

Something touched his hand which woke Sam. It was the lightest of a contact but it was there.

"Sammy."

"Dean." It must have been Dean who had touched his hand.

"Right here, Sammy."

"It's Sam." The injured man replied as he opened his eyes and found his brother sitting crossed legged in front of him.

"Sure, Sammy."

"Help me." Sam said.

Dean cocked his head to one side, then to the other as if thinking about Sam's request. Then he smiled.

"Help me." Sam repeated.

Dean just looked at him for a while again before he said mockingly sweet, "You know Sammy, you're responsible for all this mess. Because of you mom was killed. Because of you dad became a hunter. Because of you he dragged me into this life."

"No, I didn't want this. I'm sorry." Tears welled up in Sam's eyes.

"Yeah, you're fucking sorry, huh?" Dean's voice turned into pure hatred. "I hate you!"

Dean could not be serious, could he? Sam loved Dean. No, how could Dean say, he hated him?

Wide eyed he stared at his brother's stone-cold face not able to comprehend what happened when darkness claimed him.

* * *

The petite girl behind the counter looked up in surprise but kept her friendly smile in place. It was nice to have people coming in. Especially people that were not from around here. People that were also nice, fine-looking young men.

"Hi, can I-", she started, but the man with the short-cropped hair was already speaking.

"I'm looking for a tall guy."

"Okay." The girl replied with a frown.

Dean got impatient and his tone got annoyed, "Did a guy come in this morning? Real tall? Looking like a puppy? Messy hair?" Only when Dean saw the girl's face falling he realized his mistake. His tone had gone from annoyed to angry. And the receptionist could not know that his anger masked his fear for his brother. He tried to calm himself but felt anything but.

"Uh, y-yes." The blonde stammered, her smile had long since been replaced by a round-eyed, pale look. Although the guy was handsome he gave her the creeps.

Apparently, he had her freaked out completely with his harsh tone and not even waiting for her to finish her neat little sentence of how to help. "And? Where is he?" His tone softened and had gone to pleading.

"He said he was an eco-student. He needed information on the town and its development." She supplied her information with big-fearfilled eyes.

Great, she was anxious, afraid of him. Not what he wanted to accomplish. He just wanted to find his little brother and she only told him unimportant things. Scaring her had not been part of the plan.

Dean inhaled deeply and tried a smile. "Please, I need to find him."

"I-I dunno." The receptionist replied. This guy seem to be up to no good and she would not give away the other. She did not know either of them but the man before her was obviously dangerous, maybe some escaped psycho and the other seemed so kind and nice. No way that they had anything to do with each other that was good.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I… He's sick." Dean tried to soften his voice even further.

That got her attention and her face softened from the fearful, scared look to almost normal yet worried. Just like Dean had hoped. "He's diabetic and he forgot his shot this morning."

"Oh, dear, he went to the archives. Downstairs." A concerned frown crossed her features when she got up and pointed the way.

"Thank you." Dean breathed in relief.

"Do you want me to come with you?" She asked.

"Thanks. I have it covered." Dean replied dismissively but as friendly as his concern would let him.

Still unsure as of what to think of him, the blonde girl looked after him as he disappeared down the hallway.

* * *

He felt pain.

He struggled to breathe properly.

"Hey."

Sam heard the soft voice of a female.

"Hey", he croaked.

"Look at the mess you got yourself into."

The voice continued. A voice he longed to hear again. A voice that could not, should not be here.

"Jess." His voice was breathless.

"Open your eyes, Sam."

He had not even realized they were still closed but he obeyed. There she was right in front of him like he remembered her. He wanted to get up and touch her. Yet something pinned him face down to the floor. He craned his neck as much as his hurting body would allow to take her in, her tall, slender yet well-shaped body, the sweetest smile he had ever seen, the long blonde hair framing her gorgeous face, just that stunning looks of hers, yet her eyes shadowed with worry for him. All beautiful inside out.

"Jess." He exhaled as his heart rate sped up and his breathing became faster.

Suddenly, her kind, worried eyes, her beautiful smile turned into a horrible face of hate and disgust. "You did this to me. You alone!" Her voice was filled with venom when she spat those words at the fallen man. "You're responsible!"

Sam's breath hitched and he stared wide-eyed at her. "Jess."

"Don't you dare, Sam. Don't you dare apologize. It's your fault."

Sam's eyes blurred as tears filled them. She was right. It was his fault. She was dead because of him. He was responsible. He did this to her.

Suddenly she burst in flames. Fear-filled and terrorized he stared at her. The feelings from that fateful night were all back at once. His pain, his horror, his helplessness, his hopelesness, his sadness, his trauma from that night, it all came crushing back down on him.

His heart hammered against his chest and his breath came in short, quick gasps. He knew he deserved her hateful words yet they hurt him so badly. He squeezed his eyes shut to tune the tormenting and pain out. Instead his body eventually gave in to unconsciousness.

* * *

A wooden door caught Dean's attention and he pushed it open. The room was lit by a small light bulb. At least part of it was. The back was rather dim to dark.

"Sam?" Dean called inching inside. "You in here?" His senses were on high alert. A soft groan caught his attention.

"Sammy?" Dean moved further into the room. "C'mon, man, don'tcha think you played enough with paper?"

Somewhere in front of him behind some shelves in the dark he heard moaning, sounding like his brother, and rustling, sounding like the metal shelves being scraped over the cemented floor.

Dean rushed forward.

In the dark part of the room he quickly found the still switched-on flashlight and close to it a dark barely moving heap on the floor. There had to be light for the back of the room. His eyes scanned the wall behind him and found the switch which he flipped on.

Even the brightness of the dimly light bulb blinded both men for a moment. Then Dean was finally able to take in the mass and mess in the aisle. Everywhere lay books and files. Boxes had toppled on the floor. Paper lay strewn across the floor and other racks. The shelf that once had them contained buried his brother.

 _His brother!_

Dean hurried to Sam's side. He lay face down underneath the shelf. His face was turned towards Dean, his eyes closed, his hair fanned out around his head. Papers, books, cartons lay around Sam. Some papers covered his hand which lay outstretched to his side. The flashlight must have rolled away when Sam had fallen down. Dean crouched down, one hand immediately going to his brother's neck feeling for a pulse which was erratic and fast but there.

"Sammy?"

"Don't hate me." Sam's voice was strangled as he heard another voice that was so very dear to him but the person behind it hated him.

Dean pushed through the bangs. Probably as much to his own comfort as Sam's. Sam leaned into Dean's gentle touch. He did not care if Dean was really here or not. The well-known hand on his head was much needed and soothed Sam as he hoped it would not pull away and leave him alone and hated.

"Sammy?" Dean looked the shelf up and down, then back into his brother's face. Something was going on here but Dean did not comprehend what.

"Please don't go." Sam pleaded softly.

Dean frowned. "Open your eyes, Sam."

That were the exact words Jessica had used earlier only to torture him after. No, he could not open his eyes. He could not stand another round at torture. He pressed his eyelids even closer together.

"No." He moaned softly. "Jess… And you…. You'd taunt me."

 _Jess?_ The worry in Dean's stomach grew. "Sammy." He said as he carefully stroked his brother's head. "I'm won't. And I won't go anywhere. C'mon, open your eyes for me."

"No." Sam sighed.

The older brother stared at his younger sibling unsure of what had happened to have Sam this freaked out. He made a mental not to ask his brother about this once they were out of this mess and his brother coherent enough to explain. "Don't you wanna see your handsome big brother?"

Afraid of what would happen but also afraid Dean might disappear if he did not take a look at him Sam pried his eyes open and squinted against the light.

"That's it." Dean grinned. The worry had yet to lessen. But at least his brother looked at him and from what he could see he was lucid. Kind of.

Sam stared at his older brother for a while waiting for the taunting to begin. But nothing happened. Instead, Dean asked, "Are you alright?"

The younger man stared as he tried to control his heart and breathing rate until he finally felt he could talk without stammering. "Dean?"

"In the flesh." Dean grinned. Then he turned serious again and repeated his question.

Sam decided to play along to the best of his abilities hoping this Dean would not just sit there, stare at him and eventually tell him it was all his fault. "I'm buried underneath metal and paper. What do you think?"

"Can you breathe okay?"

"Yes."

"Move your legs? Toes?"

"Yes."

Dean examined Sam's face. There were tear tracks on his face. Some small scratches decorated his cheek and forehead. Sam's eyes looked glazed and watery.

"How many?" Dean held up three fingers.

The younger man felt confused. This Dean really seemed nice. So he moved his head slightly to get a better look at him. "Only one of you here."

Dean chuckled with Sam's response before he answered, "I'm unique!"

"It's really you." Sam stated. The relief almost palpable in the air.

"Sure it is." Dean replied grinning while he took in his brother's situation. "Have you lost consciousness?"

"I guess."

"You guess?" Dean repeated. By the way Sam had hesitated and how he had answered Dean was very certain his younger brother must have lost consciousness at some point.

"Help me out?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Uh yeah." Dean smiled and grabbed the shelf. It appeared so small and he did not understand why Sam had not crawled out by himself already. Then he tried to push it away from his brother's back. And nothing happened.

"Oh."

"What?" Sam craned his neck as best as he could to watch Dean.

"This thing is trained in holding-on-to-Sam."

"Should learn holding-on-to-walls, then."

Dean looked over to his brother who had his eyes closed.

"Sammy? What happened?" Dean asked. Maybe his clumsy little big brother had hit his head on the floor and Dean was not sure if Sam would lose consciousness but he was not about to take that risk. So he had to keep him occupied, talking.

Sam opened his eyes. "Rats."

"Rats did this to you? Are they possessed?" Dean spared a glance over at his brother while he tried to figure out why the damn shelf did not budge the slightest. The thing was stuck somewhere.

Sam was irritated. "Possessed? No."

"And they attacked you? Normal cute little rats?" Dean climbed to the other side and found the shelf had wedged into another one. Carefully but with strength he pushed against the racks.

"Cute? Little? They're big like and they look creepy. And they were there and…" Sam trailed off feeling weak.

Dean looked over, a moment of fear washing through him. "Sam?"

"Here." The young man breathed.

"Did they scare you?"

"They have naked tails."

"They did." Dean laughed.

"Topic change?" Sam suggested his strength waning dangerously.

"Yeah, what about this hunt? I couldn't find anything online, anywhere, that this is our kinda thing."

"Me neither."

"So nothing?"

"Nothing."

"What about my breakfast? I read your note." Inwardly, Dean cringed with every inch the thing slid over Sam's back. "Oh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that. Wanted to bring you breakfast."

"Got a little stuck here, huh?"

"Yes. The shelf wanted to cuddle with me."

"Next time take a girl. Easier to get off." Dean grinned. Finally he after changing his hold on the metal he could turn it over and of his brother.

It now lay on its side next to Sam who moaned softly. His eyes were closed but he answered in a low voice. "Nah. Don't think so."

Sam pulled his outstretched hand towards his body. The papers that had covered it slipped. _That must've been the touch I felt earlier and confused with Dean._

Then he lay still, too drained to move, and Dean peeled back his jacket and shirts to get a look at his back. He hissed at the colorful bruises that slowly came up. In a few hours Sam's back would be marbled in wonderful dark colors. "The receptionist girl is cute."

"All yours." Sam replied flatly.

"Uh no. I don't think she likes me."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. I was just asking for you."

"And you used your 'no-shit' tone?"

"Maybe." Dean slid over to Sam's head. "Did you hit your head?"

"Yeah."

 _Crap._ "Think you can stand?"

"Hope so. Floor is cold."

Dean flipped his brother over to his back all the time watching to not aggravate the pain his sibling must be feeling already. After both brothers were in a sitting position Dean scrutinized Sam. He seemed a little groggy but alert. His eyes did not look watery anymore, only a little glassy. The pupils were slightly uneven. So probably a concussion. Dean carefully ran his hands over Sam's head checking for any lumps or gashes or anything that should not be there. He felt and saw a small knot at Sam's temple which had been hidden before when he had lain on the floor on it. "You good?"

"'m fine." The automatic Winchester-reply came instantly.

Dean smiled. Then he pulled his brother's arm around his shoulder, grabbed around his waist. "On three." He counted and pushed himself up. He was surprised when he did not feel as much weight as he expected. Sam had locked his legs underneath himself as well and held most of his own weight. Though his head lolled onto Dean's shoulder.

Dean turned the two of them around, feeling Sam shuffling with him. There was a noise to his left somewhere inside the rack. He turned his head just in time to stare at a grey, big rat that scrabbled over the papers in the shelf.

He shrieked.

"See. Scary big monsters." Sam slightly smiled.

"C'mon. Time to get outta 'ere, eco-student." Dean grumbled.

Sam smiled embarrassed. "Yeah, 'bout that."

"Yeah, you look a little eco. Maybe we should get you some woolen pullovers." Dean walked them over to the door and they made it slowly up the stairs.

"Sure."

"You could knit some."

"Never learned to knit."

For a moment they shuffled in silence until Dean asked, "What happened down here?"

"Already told you. Rats startled me and I fell."

"And what about the taunting? Jess? Me?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Dean looked his younger brother over who pointedly stared ahead steeling his features.

"Bad dreams." Sam relented. This once Dean decided to let it go. His brother had had a rough morning enough it was and he probably still was in a huge amount of pain.

They had made to the entrance where the blonde receptionist came running around her counter after seeing them.

"Dear Lord, what happened? Are you alright?"

Sam looked up sheepishly and his otherwise pale face blushed as he remembered the probable mess they left behind downstairs. Dean held on to him a little tighter.

"All fine. Just a little accident down there."

"You need an ambulance?" She asked only to answer her question herself, "I'll call an ambulance." She already was on her way back to her work place.

"No. Thanks. A little rest will do." Dean looked at Sam. "But lady, you have a serious problem down there."

She had stopped in her tracks and now stared up at Dean. "What? What problem?"

"You have rats in that basement. You better get pest control to look at that."

"Oh, oh, I didn't… I mean… Yes…" The blonde was confused at what to do. Somehow she felt like she still needed to call an ambulance or a doctor for the two, but they had told her they just needed some rest, and the basement was covered in rats. How come nobody had noticed that yet? Well, anyone hardly ever went down there. Why should anyone?

While she was still arguing with herself about what to do the brothers had already left the building and were in their car. It was only ten minutes later that a shiny black classic car moved out of the motel parking lot and out the town.

"You still owe me breakfast!"

 **The End**


End file.
